


7pm

by StainedGlassDreams



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, BuckyNat Mini-Bang, F/M, buckynat - Freeform, h/c, winterwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:36:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StainedGlassDreams/pseuds/StainedGlassDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Bucky's weaknesses is that he can't give up. Especially on her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Buckynat Mini-Bang, hope you guys enjoy :')
> 
> A HUGE Thank You goes to the amazing Maxiekat for being my Beta, and making this story 1,000 better than I could have hoped, & Lulushappenings on Tumblr who's literally bringing it to life in ways I can't even begin to say Thanks enough for :')  
> You can view her amazing companion art here http://lulushappenings.tumblr.com/post/142321988890/posting-for-buckynat-week-mini-bang-7pm-ao3
> 
> I'm so grateful to have collaborated with these amazing gals, & as always, Thank You so much for reading :)

There's a thought that's been rattling around Bucky's head for a while now.  
He turned the key to his motel room; the slightly musty smell greeting him like an old friend.  
He's been trying to ignore it. Hide it in the boxes and boxes of memories he has, sitting like bombs in the attic of his mind.  
He hung his jacket in the modest, broken closet. Figuring he needed a shower, he walked to the bathroom, pulling his clothes off as he went. 

Pretending he didn't need to put the water as hot as he did, stepping under the water and closed his eyes, letting the heat sink into his bones. The bruises that newly graced his back and legs becoming more prominent as he washed, barely noticing them.

"[Speak in English, I need the practice.]" a voice said in Russian, faint under the sound of the shower.

He clenched his fists as he ignored the ghosts for the 3rd time this week.  
As he finished, he kept the towel for his hair, lightly scrubbing it against his scalp as he tried to get all the water off.

Looked at the growing wall, the papers hanging with both desperation & care.

The memory, which seemed to refuse to leave, was a simple one.  
Natalia had draped herself along the bed, wearing one of his shirts.  
He was in the kitchen, making breakfast for the both of them, the past week being a little hard on them both; each of their respective missions, being a bit difficult.  
James was intent on erasing the bad memories, making the morning as good as last night.  
He flipped the omelet, hitting the pan with perfect ease.

He was so focused on his cooking that he didn't even hear her come into the kitchen.  
“What are you doing?”, she asked, leaning against the doorframe.  
“Breakfast omelet. Know you like these over pancakes, which I still don't understand. You're crazy,” he joked as he smiled.  
"When you get taken to a pancake house every time you go out, you tend to get tired of the magic flapjacks."  
"It’s the classic American dish, how dare you?" he replied.  
She came up next to James, kissing him. She then moved behind him, embracing him from behind. Nat paused, her breath against his back becoming more relaxed. "...Thank you." she whispered.   
He turned to face her. "That's my line,” he said with a small smile.  
"Just as much mine as it is yours, James." She put her hands around his neck, mirroring his hold on her waist. "You don't know when to give up, do you?"  
"No, never got the meaning. You give up cigarettes. You give up drinking. You can't give up on people you love. I'm still here because you never did. You never stopped believing in me. ....The stars could stop shining, I'd never give up on you."

The thing with them, one of the things that James treasured more than anything, was that they never needed to say a word; their eyes saying a million and five things at once. In this moment, this one memory that wouldn't leave, it was prominent.  
Whenever he looked at her, it was with reverence. Gratitude & silent prayers that in all of the mess that was his life, he had her. Could have her.  
For some reason, she said the exact same in her eyes. Said it now, as she always saw his soul, never stopping to tell him that he was a good man. Honestly, he could only ever consider believing it when it came from her.

They kissed, space settling.

"You're a sap." She smiled into his lips.  
"Always."  
He grinned slightly as time paused once again.

Rearranged the map.

It was that memory that was keeping him going. The reminder of a promise he refused to break.  
He was due on a trip to Belarus tomorrow, one of the last destinations on the map. Bucky had been working on his plan for the past month and a half, having left Sam's house before that (he was stressed enough as it was, he didn't need to add to it by making Sam’s living room the base operations for his desperation.)  
The map was a detailed & definitive tracking of Novokov's base ops, contacts, locations & other places of interest.

He knew that whatever he gave to Nat had to be similar to the cocktail he injected himself with during 'that time', as he called it.

The one time he let stupidity overpower the screaming logic in his head that knew nothing would come of this.

The all too easy bait his old protege dangled in front of him. Bait he knew he would always take.  
'Take this & maybe you have a shot. Take this and maybe you can save her. Maybe, just maybe, I'll let her remember.'  
The overwhelming feeling of guilt & all too familiar sickening fear was the only thing that came of it.   
Once again, owing Steve his life as he stayed and helped him come back from the fog that night, talking sense he had ignored, and learning that the cocktail was nothing more than another damn mission, in which he nearly killed Murdock. ....Again.  
Matt still doesn't trust Bucky anymore, though he honestly doesn't blame him.

The cocktail had been a mix of drugs, programming & memory inhibitors. Which means, it came with trial and error, efficiently meaning there was an antidote. A way to unblock memories.

Which leads us back to here. To a map on a wall, filled with pins of different colors, threads connecting them and heavy black marker exing out locations where he’d already searched.  
As he contemplated where to go in between now & Belarus, he was really glad that Sam-  
His phone began ringing on the sheets where he threw it. Bucky picked it up, the screen displaying Sam's name.

He let the call ring a few times. Didn't want to pick it up, he was already pushing a worn envelope, expecting a call from Steve any second. As much as didn't want to answer Sam right now, it went double for Steve.  
He let it ring close to voicemail, before picking it up.

"Buck?"

Paused. "Hey."

Heard a sigh on the other line. "I know you need your space but dammit, Bucky."  
"I know, I'm sorry."  
"No one's heard from you in two weeks. I was this close to trying to find you myself."  
"I'm fine, really. I'll pick up more often."  
"You don't sound fine," Sam said but Bucky heard Steve's tone.  
"....I'm fine."  
Another pause. "Look, whatever you're doing, I know you have to do it alone. But if you need any help, we have your back."  
"Thanks Sam …I appreciate it." His mind wanted to add, 'I want you to, but I'm already having you lie.’  
"...I mean it."  
He wanted to ask another question. Couldn't get himself to. Maybe that's why Sam then said after the long pause, "She's on a case in Mozambique right now ... nothing dangerous, should be back in a few days."

He appreciated these updates more than anything. And that meant he'd be drinking more in the next week.

"Thanks Sam." Another pause. "Tell Steve to quit worrying."  
"You know that's easier said than done."  
"He listens to you."  
"Not when it comes to people he cares about, and we both know that."  
"Touché."  
Sam sighed once again. "Just stay safe Buck. Please."  
"...Yeah."  
"More than a yeah, Barnes."  
"Promise." The word lurching in his stomach.  
"Take care, man."  
"You too, Sam."

The phone clicked, ending the call.  
He looked back to the wall, figuring he'd be better off in the morning.  
The truth was, is, that he honestly and truly doesn't know the definition of "giving up." Never has. It's probably the reason why he survived everything he had.  
He got into bed, putting the freshly (hopefully) laundered sheets over him, as he breathed in.  
He’d always been like that his whole life. He's an idiot, and he knew it.

And when it comes to her, it increases times a hundred. And it's why he knows, he won't give up.

Because he's stubborn. Because he can't give up.  
He closed his eyes to the memory that kept repeating.  
Because he promised.


	2. Chapter 2

Getting to Belarus wasn't ideally the greatest plan.  
He scoped out the building, an old abandoned office building in a row of old storage buildings.  
To start, the information he got, though reliable, came from a source he didn't necessarily trust to begin with, and he already knew why.

"[She really doesn't remember.] ", Gregory said, after giving him the information.  
Bucky kept quiet.  
"[I've warned you before to take care of Leo. Our pasts always come back to us, Soldier.]"

The words struck him more than he expected them to.

So now, he was here, in the snow covered bottom of some forgotten building where everything was riding.  
This was the last operations base. He'd hit the last few before coming here, ripping off the band-aid by going through Russia a few months ago … too many memories, some painful, and others not. Then again, everything was pain on some level now.  
His stomach flipped in knots, as he tried to bury the words deep, underneath the same doubt that brought them to the surface.

Bucky walked around, checking the storage units. Most of them had already been open & emptied out, either by looters, occupants or both. The closed ones held nothing but unoccupied sleeping bags, shelter for a few hermits in the area.  
Felt each of the bags gently, as well as knocking the steel walls, each yielding nothing.  
He then walked over to the office building, holding his gun as he kicked the door open, the air from the force blowing some dust into the entryway.

The office was small, a desk in the front and a small room in the back. He investigated the desk first, meeting nothing but shadows & more dust. The underside held a few files, all of which were just more empty covers.  
Bucky then made his way to the back office; a bookcase occupied the far left wall, as a wind from the open window blew a few files open in the cabinets. He combed through each one - manila folders in Cyrillic & German, mixed in with English. They might as well have been taunting him, with no information in every new file.

He then went over to the desk, a single book tossed haphazardly onto it. He picked up & flicked through it, the space of its previous occupancy outlined on the dust covered desk. He resumed looking through the folders that covered it, all with a layer of dust to make the most haunted room, blush in envy.  
He continued to hold back the frustration of them having no information. 

He held his flashlight, opening the drawers, feeling for a secret panel, a button … fucking anything.  
Bucky grasped the edge of the table, at the end of his rope.  
The source he had gotten the information was reliable, which meant the office was just a decoy. Another stab in the heart as he heard Nobokov's laugh, the words from earlier once again floating to the surface as he realized their truth-  
He knocked over the contents of the desk, papers & objects clattering onto the floor.

And then.... he just broke.   
The walls he so hastily built. All the nights since Arlington. Every moment that had been flashing to him every waking hour, everything he lost, every memory that would never be more than that, all tumbling down.  
He needed to try. He refused to accept the poetic fate.

Had always fought for everything he ever loved. Everything he cared for.  
Bucky stayed quiet for a while, regaining his composure, the winter wind whipping softly outside.

He looked down at his flesh arm. The Infinity Formula now beating inside his veins. Because she refused to give up on him … even in the face of death.  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Paused, rebuilding the crumbled wall.  
He got up, walking toward the fallen Mag-Lite, its light shining on the book, the binding reading "Memory Loss: Temporary & Permanent Effects".


	3. Chapter 3

He drank.  
The thing about that sucked about the serum, the thing everything forgets in the hullabaloo of rapidized healing, improved strength & everything in between?  
You can't get drunk.

Everything becomes a phantom of what you remember, what you could feel but never actually get there anymore. Your mind remembers it, but your body doesn't. Therefore, drinking becomes a placebo. A chase of something you used to know.  
Held the whiskey tumbler in his hand as he sat on the edge of his bed.  
And it didn't fucking help.  
He failed. He broke the only promise he never wanted to break. The pieces visible to only him.

Add that to the list of damn failures.  
He felt a hand hold his. The touch soft. He curled his fingers around hers.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Nat asked, appearing on his bed. She'd been appearing more over the past week. As much as it hurt, he couldn't push it away.

"You know why."  
“Because you think you failed?”  
"I did-"  
“No. You didn't,” she said, a delicate affirmation in her voice. “You tried.”  
"Not hard enough."  
A brief pause. “Look at me.”  
He turned, facing his phantom.  
“You did everything you could and if you start blaming yourself for Leo, I'll hit you right now. Just because I'm not there, doesn't mean I can't.”  
He smiled softly. "I wish you were."  
"There's a part of me that can't forget, James. That even Nobokov couldn't reach. It's buried right now, but that piece? It's the reason I can be here." She moved her fingers through his hair. "We've been separated, taken apart, and put back together. But every time we see each other, we're still there."   
She then moved closer to his ear, speaking gently. "I'll never forget you, James Buchanan Barnes. Don't you ever forget that."  
Bucky woke up, the glass still in his hand.

He took a few deep breaths, as he still felt her breath against his ear.  
He put down the glass as he laid back down, accepting that that wasn't a dream. It felt too real.

He looked at the note from her he'd kept on the nightstand beside him.  
"I can't forget you either Nat … never will."

He thanked God for his stubbornness.


End file.
